


Idle

by LtLJ



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys
Genre: Gen, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-03-07
Updated: 2005-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-03 15:08:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LtLJ/pseuds/LtLJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Therienne asked for a drabble inspired by the photo of Michael Hurst naked in the stream with a sword.  It went a little long.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Idle

When Iolaus reached the stream, there was no sign of Hercules yet, so he followed it back to where the warm springs nestled amid the rocks. The trees stood back from the stoney shallow pools, and steam rose off the water, filling the air with an odd mineral odor.

Iolaus eyed it for a moment, but only a moment. He was covered with dirt and grime from days of walking and his bad arm, broken last year by both Maceus and Hera's Enforcer, was aching from the cold nights. He wasn't going to pass up a chance like this.

He shed his pack, his scabbarded sword and his amulet, then stripped quickly, boots and vest first, then pants and gauntlets. He waded two steps into the nearest pool before the pure pleasure of the hot water made him drop his head back and sink down. Making noises that were usually reserved only for close encounters between two people, or occasionally three people, he lay back, floating on top, letting the heat seep into his bones. Even in an elaborate Roman-style bath, you were still inside a building and missed the contrast between the cool breeze and the hot water, the sun on the leaves, the slow movement of the clouds overhead. Even the water's mineral taint didn't matter.

After a time he revived enough to want more. He stood, dripping, and picked up his scabbarded sword from the rocky bank. Taking the sword with him because there was no point in being stupidly careless, he waded out further to the deeper and even warmer center of the pool. He propped the sword out of the water's reach on a handy stone, and settled into the pool's warm caress.

Later, he was stretched out facedown on a big sun-warmed rock near the pool's center, head pillowed on his arms, damp curls drying in the breeze, the gentle movement of the air cooling his heated skin. Dozing, every muscle relaxed; that was when his ears registered the faint crunch of a boot on gravel.

With a yell Iolaus sprang up into a crouch, sword drawn. Most of his brain was still asleep so it took him a moment to realize that it was Hercules, standing at the top of the bank, arms folded, watching him with a bemused expression.

"Oh, it's you." Iolaus sheathed the sword, then stood and stretched until his spine crackled comfortably. "What took you so long?"

 

 


End file.
